


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Korg Is a Good Bro, Light Angst, Male Friendship, Mentioned Brunnhilde | Valkyrie, Missing Scene, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Korg is a good bro. And a lot more perceptive than people might think.
Relationships: Korg of Krona & Thor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> this is a really niche fic but idk i cant get it out of my brain so have fun

“So, I think I figured it out.” 

The sofa creaked as Korg sat down, wooden frame protesting loudly to the solid ton of rock and hawaiian-print fabric that had plonked itself down next to him. 

The first few days, it had been difficult living with his chosen flatmates. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, far from it, in fact. Korg was one of the most genuinely polite people he’d ever met, and that baffled him - it was all too rare to begin a friendship with someone these days that didn’t start in a near-murder. 

And Miek was...well, Miek was a slug with knives for hands but he still managed to be weirdly courteous, always chirping brightly when someone or other walked into the room. 

But, seeing them, anyone from Sakaar really was like a daily blaring alarm that those events had happened. Thor could drown out the burning flames of Asgard’s foundations with as much alcohol as he could get his hands on - but it was remarkably difficult to drown out someone who’d been there with him. 

So he’d chosen his own way of blocking out the world, for the first few days, at least. Had barely left his room, hadn’t so much as drawn back the curtains for fear of what lay outside. A fishing town, and the few survivors of his people mingling with the locals. 

A sight that should’ve been one of hope. Of new beginnings, fresh starts and whatever whatever whatever. 

And partially, it was. He was proud of them for adapting, until the reasoning snuck up on him as to why they were adapting. Why their way of life had been ripped from them, why they’d had to start anew. 

Seeing an Asgardian in a polo-neck jumper was funny, until you remembered that that was because their old clothes had burned in the fires of Asgard. 

It had taken a week for him to get used to it all. And even then, leaving his house before nightfall was a no-go. But Korg, he could get used to. 

And so when he sat down, the gentle lilt of his voice breaking through whatever haze Thor had managed to push himself into, he could offer him a small nod in greeting.

“Figured what out?”

Korg glanced briefly towards the TV Thor was supposedly watching, lacing his fingers together in an almost nervous manner. 

Korg was nervous. That was new. 

“Why you keep me and Miek around. Or, y’know - why you asked to room with us. Instead of Brunn.”

Thor frowned, lifting the bottle back up to his lips. 

“I roomed with you two because I like you. Do you not think that I like you?” 

“No, no, man. It’s not that. We know you like us - and hey, we like you too, so that’s all good there.” Korg paused, a few stray pebbles crumbling to the floor as the giant pushed his expression into something Thor hadn’t really noticed in him before - worry. 

Korg was famously optimistic. Infamously, would be a better word for it. From what few Sakaarians he’d managed to talk to back on the Statesman, he’d just always been like that. Always seen things from a brighter point of view, always trying just that little harder to make things better - even if trying was just a kind word, here and there. 

It put him in Thor’s good books, at least. A giant with the descriptive talent of Asgard’s finest bards was a good friend to have when you were with people that were low on morale. Korg had been kind enough to tell stories each night, to those that wanted to hear them. 

Thor had never expected to see Asgardians smiling again, and yet, there they were. On a dingy spaceship with dwindling supplies, laughing at a story told by a Kronan. 

Said Kronan coughed to grab his attention, and he involuntarily tensed at the feeling of cold stone fingers lightly brushing his shoulder. 

“It’s just that, I think you think we don’t know you well enough to ask questions. Like Brunn would - y’know, the whole ‘are you ok’ and ‘have you drank water today’ and all that kinda stuff. And I just feel like you should know that we do care, Miek and me.” 

Thor’s brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to piece together what was being said to him. 

“I...I met all of you on the same day, Korg. I know you just as much as I know her.”

“No, it’s different - I’m not explaining this right, sorry. It’s just...it’s like this,” 

Korg moved forward a touch, directly into Thor’s eyeline, so he couldn’t look away. 

Which made Thor nervous, because why would he want to look away? What was Korg planning to say that was so important Thor had to look at him? 

“You and Brunn are from the same place, right? And even if you don’t know each other on a more personal level, you still know each other - like, when you say something and she looks at you and she gets it - like that sort of know,”

Okay, so far he was following.

And Korg wasn’t wrong, exactly. Thor and Brunnhilde had a...something. They had a something. He wasn’t sure he could call it a friendship. 

Maybe it had been, once. Maybe it could’ve been something more. 

But he figured he’d blown that chance by spending a month not talking to her. Or anyone. And Norns, what a waste. 

Fighting side by side with her, facing down Hela, it had felt..right. Noble, even. Like for a moment, for this one part in the worst week of his life, he’d felt like Thor again. Fighting alongside a noble warrior, a Valkyrie. 

It had been the first time in years that he felt his younger self would’ve been in awe of who he’d become. 

And now, Brunnhilde was leading the Asgardians. While he languished in a cell of his own making. 

Korg continued carefully, piecing each word together like it was a delicate pattern being woven together on a loom. 

“But Miek and me, we’re just sort of your buddies. And that’s fine, I like being your buddy. You’re a cool guy, y’know? But it’s a more surface level thing. Like we’ll just play this game and eat pizza and only talk about the weather or something.” 

Thor sighed, setting down his bottle to try and gauge more of a reaction out of those features of stone.

“I’m not following. You think that I chose to stay with you two because I don’t know you?”

“I think you chose us because you think we won’t ask how you’re doing - because we don’t know you well enough. And that’s just...that’s not true, man. Miek can’t really ask - ‘cause he’s not really got a mouth - but he can listen. And I can do the asking.” 

Ah. 

So that was it. That was what had gotten Korg so worked up that he’d heard him pacing the floorboards moments before he’d joined him on the sofa.

Korg - like everyone else, it seemed - was worried. About him. 

Half of the universe had died, and Korg was worried about him.

He didn’t know why it filled him with a feeling of something volatile, and that just made things worse. 

It had been so long since someone had worried about him. Hadn’t he spent the better half of his childhood wondering if Odin had ever spared a passing thought of concern for him? When he’d scraped a knee on the playing grounds, or been struck with a sword during a battle, hadn’t he sat up in the healing wing of Asgard wondering why people just seemed to assume he was fine with it all? 

Hadn’t he wanted this? A secret, shameful thing - a craving, to just be treated not as a golden prince, not as an avenger, but just someone? 

And now that it was happening, all he could think of was that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be pitied. Shouldn’t be cared for. He should be out there, strong as the mountains, and yet he was stuck in here and he was afraid and tired and so, so angry. 

At Thanos. At himself. At the Norns for letting him survive this far. 

He stilled the storm inside with a clenched jaw, knocking back the rest of the beer and setting the bottle down just that bit too loudly. 

”I don’t need listening to, Korg. So what if I just want to hang out? Is that bad? Don’t I deserve to just hang out after everything I’ve been through?”

“No, no, this isn’t...that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we can hang out - play video games, order takeout, whatever. All of that. But I’m not just gonna not ask if you’re ok sometimes.”

And suddenly Korg was that much closer, and the cold stone was warm on his shoulder. And it was that much clearer why Korg was the leader of a revolution.

Because who else could it be, really? Who else could be kind enough to band together a group of gladiators, a ragtag gang of bandits and thieves and whoever’s from across the stars, and get them to fight for one common good? 

Pamphlets or no, Thor got the sense that one or two people had pledged their lives the second the words ‘Hi, my name’s Korg’ had reached their ears. 

He got the sense that he was going to be one of those people, by the end of this conversation. 

“I know you’re a big time hero, and you probably save people all the time, and tossing a gun to a gladiator might not be something that stuck in your memory - but it stuck in mine. You kinda kick-started the revolution that freed me. It’s sort of the reason that I can walk up to people and say: hey, my name’s Korg, and not whatever name they gave me back on Sakaar,” 

Korg sighed, a strange sound, like the scattering of pebbles across a lake, and let go of Thor’s shoulders with a small shake of his head. 

“You do that sort of thing and you’ve got a friend, friend.” 

Thor’s throat felt uncomfortably tight all of a sudden, and it was pretty much all he could do not to cry then and there. Instead, he reached out with one hand, doing his level best to clasp Korg’s shoulder - although it was a little painful on the fingers. 

“Thank you. I don’t...I don’t really know what to say.”

Korg grinned back at him, the tension in his shoulders falling - and the sofa creaking further as he relaxed back into it. 

“You don’t have to say anything, buddy. I’m not gonna pry about your past life too much - ‘cause it’s, y’know, personal - but I’m gonna at least ask about your present. The stuff I’m here for.” 

Thor sniffed, quickly wiping at the sides of his eyes with a soft chuckle. 

“That was weirdly profound.”

“Hey, thanks man.” 

Korg glanced around, large fingers fumbling for a controller as the screen in front of them flickered to life. 

“You wanna play some Fornite?” 

Thor shrugged, reaching for a second controller, the weight of it oddly reassuring in his hands. 

“Sure.”


End file.
